First Timers

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Who shived you in the neck?

Blogger Profile: The name's Northe.
Been blogging since: September 2004.
View my complete profile here.

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2014 Update PDF Print E-mail
Written by Northe   
Monday, 06 January 2014 20:57

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories. While you're at it, go ahead and Register, approval grants access to exclusive content.

Greetings AngryTimers and lurkers. It has been damn near three years. Due to a spike in workload (and responsibility), an alternate writing project (I say smugly but knowing it is another pointless endeavor as has been this blog) and other factors I have been away from these particular stories. I still jot down ideas and will one day make a triumphant return, perhaps sooner rather than later since I am actually logged into the site for the first time in forever.

If you want more of my sarcasm and nonsense feel free to follow me on Twitter @angrynorthe

I mainly reply in snarky fashion to people far more important and hilarious than me. Stop by from time to time and there might be something new to digest or go back in time and read from the beginning.

Your Pal,

Northe

 
One Single Day PDF Print E-mail
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Written by Northe   
Thursday, 01 April 2010 09:33

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories. While you're at it, go ahead and Register, approval grants access to exclusive content.

This was one serious day. Being a self-proclaimed scholar regarding the Zodiac of Fools, I can say that this particular day as the Moon of Lunkhead fled from the House of Oaf and made its final move into Ignoramus, the stars were perfectly aligned for my fantastic Bosses to really make mischief. Never one to disappoint, Male Boss was the last to arrive at the office.

"Oh, shit!" he cries out after closing the front door.

"Whoa, whoa, shit! Whew!" he goes on.

"Ha! Son of a bitches!" he finishes.

"What's the problem?" asks Female Boss from the office.

"Your stupid fucking dog took the shit in the doorway entrance!"

"Well, clean it up! Don't just leave it there!"

"Get over here!" he shouts as he snatches The One.

The One barks and yelps. Female Boss starts for the front of the investment property. She screams, "What the hell are you doing!?"

"This is your fucking dog and he deserves it, now YOU clean it up!"

"You've got fucking problems, Male Boss. You're a head case, real fucking problems."

Realizing that the happenings aren't going to be verbalized I make it a point to walk on over. I am treated to seeing Female Boss toweling off shit from The One's nose, Male Boss toweling off shit from his hand. After seeing Male Boss dunk her precious pooch's face in his own shit, Female Boss going on and on at how she will never let Male Boss near her dog again. A vow that lasts all of 20 minutes, by the way.

Time Lapse

In the wake of frustration, Female Boss was now calm enough to flex that big brain of hers. Today was the day Padre, back in town and definitely not staying with my fantastic employers, was returning for a visit to the investment property to help Female Boss garden.. and by helping Female Boss garden, I mean plant whatever he wants and have Female Boss look out the window with her arms crossed complaining under her breath the whole time. He shouldn't be planting that there, he shouldn't be planting that there, he shouldn't be planting that at all.. whatever. Tremendously unimportant.

Post-complaining Female Boss starts to explore the brighter side, "I think its good luck to have a Padre plant in your garden.. I mean it couldn't hurt right? I wish Chakhtee was like that.. he could really lose the weight. I could get him over here and really help out around here. The place could use some sprucing up. Plus, after Padre blesses it what wrong could he do? I think I am going to call Chakhtee and maybe have him help bless the garden. Prayer for the plants," she laughs to herself.

I really don't know where my criticism can begin or, more importantly, end with that series of thought so I'll just move on.

Male Boss sick of hearing her inane babbling interrupts, "Who the fuck are you even talking to!? No one's listen! You talking to no one and talk of stupid things all the time!"

Female Boss rolls her eyes.. either in protest or completely unable to defend his accurate assessment of her soliloquy.

"That's right, now you shut the fuck up. Fucking wasting business time like always."

Female Boss stomps off like a 2 year old in a fit and heads for her plastic pail/shovel combination to join Padre in the garden.

"Yeah, that's right. Now you gonna spend all day with the hand in the dirt. Waste of a day, wasting our money! You lose the business money!"

Time Lapse

Male Boss leaves for liaison work. Female Boss feels comfortable enough to re-enter the office where no one was left to judge her.....  ......... ..... right..

She starts on about how an old Plastic friend from New Jersey was going to be in town for the weekend celebrating her birthday. The Plastic's daughter called Female Boss the night prior expressing interest to send her mom flowers. Queue more brilliance.

Female Boss' voice quieted to a whisper, "I mean, flowers? Really? Wouldn't a basket of fruit be better?"

She has to be going somewhere special with this one so I freeze in my chair and listen intently.

"I could really go for some white peaches.. oooh, or some kiwi!"

I can hear her eyes lighting up in her voice.

"That would be so much better than flowers," her voice raises.

Scared that someone could be listening in, she picks up her phone and clears the line. No one has called for 20 minutes! What the hell kind of paranoia does it take to be that skittish!? A God damn freak show I tells ya!

Female Boss' voice returning to that serene and annoying whisper, "I guess I won't say anything though, but I think I deserve something for letting her stay at my place. I am entitled, right? Maybe I'll call her, I don't know."

She truly is the master of making so many things about her.

Time Lapse

At the end of the day, Male Boss comes back to the investment property with a cat in his arms.

"What the fuck!? A cat!? Are you nuts!?"

The dogs are completely unglued, this goes without further explanation.

Male Boss answers her with a question, "What? She's cute! What's wrong with you?

Female Boss gasps, "Male Boss, you idiot! She's pregnant! Get her out of here and take her back to where you found her!"

"I don't know where I find her. The house could be anywhere."

"Well, you gotta get her out of here, we can't have a cat too! You want me to call my father and tell him that we have taken on another burden!? You really want me to do that!?"

What the fuck that means I have no idea.

Then, after careful contemplation, thinking only of his immediate concerns, Male Boss asks Female Boss one of the best questions of all time, "You think we can take him to my Doctor Friend and give it an abortion?"

Life = Complete

 
Neckmurder PDF Print E-mail
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Written by Northe   
Tuesday, 30 March 2010 11:17

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories. While you're at it, go ahead and Register, approval grants access to exclusive content.

Damn right! Neckmurder! Like a sloppy slice of the jugular, we're gonna get the blood of Angry Time to spatter and spray wildly, as I do from time to time, to touch on something off topic I have deemed relevant. No need to smack our prey around like a playful jungle cat, let's just get right into this.

On a recent festive outing I was able to hear, second hand unfortunately, the discourse between these two old coots sharing each others company at a fancy steakhouse for dinner. The woman was one of those old bats that wears far too much of that periwinkle eye shadow, enough blush to make a cherub scoff and hair hived high and dyed the hue of some color that would never appear on the feathers of an exotic bird let alone on the head of a human being. The man, a beaten down soul sporting a nice collared cowboy shirt from the 1960s complete with swirly designs stitched into the fabric. Imagine my dismay when, friend to all who read this, loyal Angry Timer Sulu sitting across from me was doing his best impression of Cameron to Ferris trying to give me the heads up of the hilarity not but 10 feet from me and like Ferris, I couldn't get the hint. I kept looking around the room at everyone but the carnival act to my left until I finally caught on. Lucky me, as I wound up into my stretch and leaned back, smoother than The Fonz I must say, my eyes were already caught in the head lamps of the old son of a bitch I was trying to spy on. A quick wink and a nod sent the man's gaze away from yours truly and the story began to unfold.

The whole episode was told to me in sections as our dinner party recalled the night's events. For simplicity's sake, I will tell it chronologically. Going back to where things all began, we have our darling old couple, lady with her frozen alcoholic drink in hand spooning out the tasty treats, started off the evening with quite the unconventional greeting. With scorn plastered on his face, the man looked his bride in the eyes and said, nay, slurred out lazily, "You're so drunk..."

Take a second and gather that one. Here you are with your wife of likely 40 years, you've lasted the test of time, through the ups and downs, and throughout all the trials and tribulations of your life with this woman, you still have the tact to at least wait for the hostess to leave before you start in at how disgusted you are with her very existence. He shakes his head slowly as he unleashes the first barrage at the woman who successfully parries the attack by digging deeper into her margarita glass. The tell tale sign of any loving relationship, I'm sure.

Showing full well that they are the paradigms of a successful coupling, life's friend chance tests their eternal bond once more for the restaurant to bare witness to the treasure they share. As the man reaches along the table, to grab a fork to stab his wife's hand with I imagine, knocks an empty wine glass off the table. The sound is loud and startling to all of us in the vicinity. Now the lady, with all eyes on her, only knowing grace and adoration for her husband, leaps at the chance to clear the awkwardness in the air by saying, loud enough for all to hear, "That was you!"

Ah yes, quite the love birds. Showing the class of England's finest aristocracy, the woman makes sure to not just absolve herself from any possible confusion that she was involved her mate's clumsy performance but really brings forth that shame upon him. Upon proving that she is willing to die for the honor of her loved one, the man takes a moment to breathe it all in.

He leans back in his chair for a moment. There's a certain sparkle in his eye, his head tilted playfully like a puppy dog as he stares at the once beautiful, porcelain sexpot across the table from him. The mother of his children kicks a wafer of mint jelly the size of a quarter around on her dinner plate with her utensil and sighs dissatisfied with her meal. Lamb chops, lobster mashed potatoes, upwards of 6 or 7 margaritas, not nearly enough to satisfy this dame. Nay, only her husband is able to really break down that crusty defensive shell she's been putting on. It's all an act, a show, her finest performance of playing hard to get, she just wants him to make her feel like she's the only woman on the planet.

Clearly, he knows this and has been waiting all night to get that timeless smile of hers to emerge like a waning gibbous from behind bothersome clouds. It's like he's biding his time, counting the seconds before he makes her heart melt like whence they were teenagers. The meal is winding down, now is the time to really turn her into putty in his hands, he looks deep into her eyes, virtually kissing upon the nape of her neck and sending her to the moon with merely his look, "We're so lucky to be married."

The woman, dips her finger into that 6th or 7th margarita of hers and swirls it around. The attraction between the two hot enough to cause the frozen beverage to boil. She looks back at him, lifts the glass to her lip and takes a healthy swill. Keeping the drink in her hand and lowering it just below her chin, she speaks plainly back to him. Her voice, not as youthful and melodic as it used to be.. her looks, not as amazing as they once were, but her words, as glorious as ever, "Oh, gimme a break..."

 
The Kryssmas Chronicles: Doomsday PDF Print E-mail
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Written by Northe   
Sunday, 28 March 2010 06:53

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories. While you're at it, go ahead and Register, approval grants access to exclusive content.

Plug: Before we get started and now that I'm back, remember to pay attention to the AngryTime Suggests box down on the left. Commissioner Phelps, like always, has been holding things down - go and be challenged.  Mexi needs encouraging words to rise again it seems. New Addition: Jenn is back to blogging so I took the liberty to linking her site, go give her a read.

Take a second, if need be, to reacquaint yourself with fucked up Kryssmas. In short, last we left you with him arriving at mentally twisted at best and being deprogrammed. As Male Boss' interest in Kryssmas waned, Female Boss' boundless heart swelled for the pathetically demented creature. Like most idiots, pet projects make her not only feel good but also makes sure that she never has to look herself in the mirror for too long. Being that Kryssmas is the latest distraction you can bet she will give almost all of her attention to this easily discarded soul.. and distract herself she did.

The rehab from suicidal quivering vegetable to spastic mental patient begins. Like any thoroughly laid out and well-planned animal training circuit, Female Boss starts at the top of the list with Smothering. Daily milestones of consistency included, but were not limited to, at least two lines of bird shit from her shoulder to the middle of her back and commenting on how painful it was when Kryssmas starting ripping strands of her hair out. The day just wasn't a success without it. Throw in the occasional shitting on her keyboard, meal or arm and you are getting about 85% of the picture. The other 15% became finding hatred for all others aside from her. I know, I find it totally crazy too that animals become territorial and possessive over someone that gives them an extreme amount of attention....

The first few incidents involved Male Boss. The completely random surge of hate keyed in at Male Boss gave the office that unpredictable sense of terror it was desperately missing, truly. Hearing Male Boss yelping in fright as the bird would go for his eyes or other soft squishy bits brought, not only, that nervous energy that sends the dogs into a barking frenzy but also that near heart attack feeling to the adrenaline system. With the perfect working environment realized, Female Boss was about done with step one and therefore, finished all together. No time for follow through, only a fleeting sense of artificial concern cut short on a whim. I think this was the keystone for Kryssmas' final downfall.. but I am getting ahead of myself.

The next step was to deconstruct Kryssmas' silly idea that Female Boss actually gave a fuck about him to begin with. The now shattered and confused Kryssmas begins his journey to unpredictability. Based on his recent behavior it is not only okay but expected for him to be with Female Boss for the stretch of any given amount of time while she is at the investment property. When Female Boss comes in, Kryssmas flies to her and is promptly shoo'd away. Kryssmas then starts going for Male Boss' unwelcoming shoulder and meets the same fate. Now we can safely add rejected to Kryssmas' profile. This is when the bird starts going through the politically correct phrase of "acting out" or what I would label as "being an asshole."

Being an asshole seems to be what Kryssmas was built for. With most of his feathers self-plucked from his body, that crooked fucked up beak of his and those sharp, spindly talons of his make the appearance fit the profile. Kryssmas' new found self-awareness brings forth a new activity.. attacking. The bites come often and painfully for the pair of Bosses, he tends to attack first thing in the morning and whomever it is he sees first. Curiously, Kryssmas has been avoiding me practically all the time.. until one day.

Being constantly on the defensive when coming in to work, not knowing whether or not one of the Bosses is already there, I was ready when he came in for the assault. Thankfully it was a day when I had a bit of work in a file folder I took home the day prior and when Kryssmas made his move I was able to swat his sorry ass down to the ground as if I was wielding a badminton racket. Upon telling Female Boss when she came in to work right on time at 1pm, she couldn't believe it. Truly shocking considering the weeks of sustaining her own injuries.. we're talking at least 4 or 5 band-aids applied in just a few weeks, not to mention plenty of paper towels used to dab up smaller cuts. Again, completely miffed and gasping at the thought of it even happening.

Tracing back a bit, after maybe attack number three against the two of them, I suggested to Female Boss a dandy of an idea, "Hey whore, why not put the bird back in the bird cage that you have in the house and for whom you bought it for in the first fuckin place?"

I was met with the guffaw of a lifetime by Female Boss. Ok, fuck you then. That was the end of it for me. Of course you would never put the bird back in a damn cage! Just leave it be! Things will all work out! Why just look at the hands off approach with the dogs and see how perfect they are! Just let the bird roam free and keep doing the same damn thing day after day! What a truly clueless fuck she is.. incredulity topped off with a heaping dollop of inaction.. my favorite candidate for a proper cudgeling.

As Kryssmas slowly weened himself off of the blood of his keepers, Female Boss became more complacent.. as did Male Boss. However, the opportunity for meltdown was introduced by Female Boss deciding to bring her Great Aunt to the investment property. I have NO clue why anyone would bring an elderly person to the office or what anyone would expect anyone to do while we conducted business.. an old person most of all. There is not much for anyone to do aside from sitting on one of the sweat stained and cracked leather cushions of Male Boss' sitting room couch, who was not present at the time of arrival. The ill conceived plan came to glorious climax the moment Female Boss left Great Aunt vulnerable. It was extremely clear, to me, that something was about to happen. The dogs were just beginning to calm down a good 30 minutes after they came in. With tension still ripe in the air, Great Aunt decided to excuse herself from the actual office where we keep the computers and walked out, alone, through the sitting room into the more common area of the house.

What happened next I can only attempt to describe. As the aged woman shuffled her feet across the marble flooring, Kryssmas eyed her from his perch. He saw that she was slow and soft. Her skin like coagulated and cooled melted butter that jiggled like not too firm jell-o when she moved. Yes, Kryssmas knew that she would make the best target, and in he flew. The Great Aunt had no clue what was coming for her and with no restraints presented to Kryssmas, she was more than fair game. Great Aunt let out a blood curdling screech and the dogs boomed in response drowning out the sounds of excruciating pain being inflicted upon her. Female Boss, completely unsure at first, staggered up from her chair and then realized what might have been happening. The result was far worse than she could have ever imagined.

By the time Female Boss arrived in aid, Kryssmas had already done his work. Kryssmas didn't even give Female Boss a chance and swiftly darted off as soon as she was within arm's reach. Female Boss was in hysterics, tripping on her feet like a white girl in a murder flick. The mold she fit regarding that was uncanny, completely impossible to get out a sentence or do anything effective. In the meantime, Great Aunt leans shakily down onto the sitting room couch.. left ear bleeding, garment shredded open exposing her entire left shoulder and with cuts along her clavicle bleeding out onto her sheer, white, laced old lady blouse. After a few minutes Female Boss had gathered her wits enough to bring in a roll of paper towels. Great Aunt recovered quite nicely with nothing more than flesh wounds.

To make everything better, Female Boss wrapped up the ordeal with what could be the biggest lie I have ever heard her tell anyone, "I don't know what happened! Kryssmas has never attacked anyone before!"

Me? I took a card from my shining example and office role model Female Boss and didn't say or do one god damned thing. Kill 'em all Kryssmas.

 
Throwin' It Out There PDF Print E-mail
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Written by Northe   
Wednesday, 17 March 2010 07:26

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories. While you're at it, go ahead and Register, approval grants access to exclusive content.

In the last post I touched for a second on legacy. Webster's dictionary defines leg·a·cy [leg-uh-see] (n.) as... get the fuck outta here, who the hell do you think you are reading? Legacy is your stamp! Your trademarks around the blackened and swollen eyes of life once you're done kicking the hell out of it. What people do during their lives is directly associated with their legacy. You want to live a normal life, chances are no one is gonna know you outside of close friends and family. To really make an impact, if that's what you want, the first thing you have to do is think differently than the other 99% of the attention begging social whores out there. An idea and a dream simply isn't enough anymore, you have to relate to people, you have to stand out and be cutting edge! So, before you sit down and start drafting your blue print, give some thought into paving the road of success with the bones of the dead whores I mentioned in the previous sentence.. it really couldn't hurt. Once you come up with a good idea, like population thinning (see last sentence), never share it with anyone until you're equipped to stash garbage bags full of money somewhere secret and safe in your home. In hindsight, population thinning might not be the best example of making money off your idea.. well, unless you are claiming the treasure of those that you kill.. my mistake, it totally works.

Since I am obviously several steps ahead of the game, I'll go ahead and swap out my blacksmithing contact lenses and put in my $-sign ones while you catch up. For those of you that need far too much hand-holding, your pal Northe is pretty damn old school. I use words like gumption and fortnight, I'll use the phrase death warmed over to describe anyone that appears unkempt, I have a severe aversion to fashion trends and pop music.. by pure chance I am part Scottish so it allowed me to get married in a kilt, a tradition spanning back life ages! This possibly being the biggest blessing because I don't think my wife would have appreciated me showing up in sneakers or shorts! Let's face it, I was born a few centuries too late.

As many of my tangents leave the reader, you are likely asking what the hell this has to do with anything, so allow me to bridge the gulf. My first idea is to bring something old school into the new school. While speaking to fellow Angry Timer, Sulu, it dawned on me. With the way of the world today, disciplining one's kids seems to be on the back burner of pretty much everyone's parenting agenda. For the sake of appearing to have a soul, I will say that I suppose breaking your child's skin with improvised weaponry can sometimes be a bit harsh, but without true correction most of today's mud skippers that have emerged from our pathetic collective gene spittle, the next generation, will only continue to make the same mistakes. Meanwhile, the bashful and image-preserving adults society would call "parents" that are more concerned with being friends with their kids than being inspirational leaders, are too scared to do anything about it. The kids have no respect for discipline and do not live in fear of consequence.. this is not the world I want for my kids! Therefore, I submit to the Angry Time panel a win/win. An old school punishment that was not only disgusting, considered compassionate since there was no violence involved, but also scores a 9 on the Holy Crap, I Remember That scale.. soap in the mouth.

This tactic, correct me if I am wrong, was only used on boys. I know of not one female that ever had to deal with this one.. not a one. Placing aside physical punishment, for the young boy this was one hell of a doom.  Reason being is that it totally sucked and furthermore, you had to sit still and keep the squirming to a minimum while your mom or dad swapped their eyes between you and their ticking wrist watch. Seconds felt like minutes and the red bar of hand soap shaped into the bust of superman that you once loved would never seem cool ever again. It was complete control. No movement, no complaining, hardly breathing and were it within the kid's power, no swallowing. Even with great thought going in to this method, this was in no way air tight. The biggest problem with this tactic was that some kids were so fucked up they could simply deal with it. No sweat beading up on the brow, no silent wish that they had a tracheotomy so that soapy saliva would just exit from halfway down their throat before it pooled into your stomach making you queasy on top of everything else. Evolution playing a key role to make this punishment more and more obsolete has now been, not only addressed, but engineered to override this insolence.. by me!

The question is how can you a) improve on beautiful simplicity? and 2) how can you get today's parents to buy back into the idea?

My answer: soap in the shape of a phallus

The first thing that should hit you squaw in the chest is completely taking away the power player child that will sit through the ordeal. This kid isn't pinning his eyes to the ceiling and swinging his legs back and forth anymore. No, sir. That isn't the molded figure of the caped crusader in his mouth anymore! The mental humiliation will do nothing short of send the child reeling as soon as the soap is taken out of the box, much like dad's look from across the room was enough to shut you the fuck up lest you wanted to feel the backside of his hand. So, first, we have taken away any superior mental position the child has.. he is demoralized. This is a huge victory for any action taken upon any dissident. Crush their spirit, then bring the punishment. With that being said, second, is the lasting effect this one will have. No bad word, no extra cookie, no tantrum is worth this.. period. Every waking second feeling that soap tickling the gag reflex, you really think your kid is gonna test you again? Get real!

The marketing angle is the easiest thing. In today's oversexed society, too many idiot moms try to keep up with the latest humane trends of discipline and it will merely fall into the fog of the smut they are subjected to willfully and unwillfully.. cake walk. Dad is even easier.  Think about it, there are tons of fucked up fathers looking to really put the screws down on their disobedient hellspawn. They will love this! Much like a perpetual motion machine, this item sells itself. Once the item spills into the common world, rest assured it would be a more ornamental replacement for soap-on-a-rope in prisons across the globe. Popularity skyrockets, kingdoms are built, game over. Rack it and cash it, sirs. I give you: The Phallus Soap

On a lighter and quicker note, I want to introduce a new word and definition.

With only a moment of lead up, I hate beard strokers.. the eggheads, the wannabe intellectuals, the know-it-all critics. They sicken me. Too often do they pretend things are one way in the face of the obvious opposite and, worse yet, these assholes I speak of are always on the other side of the issue than me. How much more odious can they be!? So, in honor of these protectors of falsehood I submit to the Angry Time panel a new word!

Beardbaten - the act of stroking one's beard as one would their *ahem* member
       ie. Quit your God damned beardbaten and listen to what the fuck I'm saying! You're wrong!

This one's for you, Beardy! Dunno why today's post is so penis-heavy. I can guarantee you that won't ever happen again. Now prepare to crush the weekend!